


Wine and Balconies

by starstruck1986



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-24
Updated: 2013-03-24
Packaged: 2017-12-06 08:40:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/733718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starstruck1986/pseuds/starstruck1986
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Warnings: Angst, slash, language. Snape didn't die.<br/>Summary: Every night since the first night they had come across one another, they had both been in the same restaurant, at the same time, and had eaten together...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wine and Balconies

“Weasley?”  
  
Ron slopped half of his beer down his front at the sound of the voice, which he wouldn't forget anywhere. Hastily mopping his chin, he put the pint glass down before turning in his seat to look.  
  
 _Merlin, who wears black on holiday?_  
  
Despite the dark colour, Severus Snape was still dressed for the occasion, in black jeans and a light (though of course long-sleeved) shirt, which had enough buttons open at the chest to look casual. His hair was longer than when Ron had last seen him, and much cleaner, too.  
  
 _Which is more than I can say, because I'm sweating like a pig._  
  
“Snape,” Ron replied, sitting up straight in his seat and regarding the man with a nod.  
“Of all the places to run into history,” Snape said quietly, looking down at him with an odd expression. “Are you on holiday Weasley?”  
“I am.” Ron nodded. He didn't know why he was being so formal.  
“Well then we are in the same place at the same time, for the same reasons, although I doubt you are alone, as I am.”  
“Actually I am.” Ron gave him a grimace-smile.  
“No entourage en tow?”   
“It was never me that had an entourage,” Ron reminded him in a low voice, and met Snape's eye.  
  
They stared at one another for a long moment, and then a waiter passed between them and the moment was broken.  
  
“Will you be joining your friend?” Another waiter asked suddenly, gesturing Snape towards the empty chair at Ron's table for two.  
“Actually-”  
“Yes,” Ron cut Snape off firmly. “He is.”  
  
Wordlessly, Snape sat down in the seat the waiter pulled out for him, and gave Ron a very odd look.  
  
“I haven't ordered yet,” Ron informed him, pulling the menu towards him. “But I know what I want. Here.” He thrust the menu at the man and looked towards the bar. “Can I get you a drink?”  
“Just some water, please.”  
  
Snape took the menu from him and buried his nose in it. Ron signalled to another waiter and requested the said water, and another for himself.   
  
“Have you been here long?” Snape enquired.  
“Since yesterday.” Ron fiddled with the salt pot for something to do. “In the morning. Got the earliest portkey.”  
“Ah, I was on the later,” Snape confirmed. “I had affairs to attend to in the city before heading to the station, and that set me back somewhat.”  
“How's business?” Ron asked, hoping to start a conversation.  
“Fine, thank you,” Snape said curtly, and offered nothing more.  
  
Cursing in his mind, Ron picked up his beer for another swallow. After the war he had seen very little of his old Potions Master, who had at first removed himself from wizarding society for the peace and quiet it afforded him. Something -probably a lack of funds, Ron guessed- had pulled him back to their world and the man had successfully opened up a small potions brewery in one of the tiny lanes leading from Diagon Alley. Whenever he had passed, Ron had noticed that the shop seemed to be doing a roaring trade, so he couldn't understand Snape's coyness in relation to the matter.  
  
“And you?” Snape asked, nodding to the waiter in gratification as their water was delivered. “How are things for you?”  
“Good. Sort of.” Ron made a face. “Well, I needed a holiday, but who doesn't once in a while?”  
“Quite. Do you still work for the Auror department in the Ministry?”  
“I've been promoted.” Ron smiled, unable to help the stab of pride which sliced his chest. “I work for the tactics and planning division now as a Senior Auror in the field. So I do still work for the department, but I don't have to go on stakeout any more.”  
  
The wry smile which Snape gave him surprised Ron. He wasn't used to seeing the man look happy.  
  
“My smile won't kill you,” the wizard said dryly, and looked away to sip at his water.  
“You look different,” Ron said dumbly. “Well. Healthy. Happy.”  
“I suppose I am all those things.”  
“Nice to hear.” Ron gave him a warm smile back and reached for his beer again. “Let's order, I'm starving.”  
  
***  
  
“Where are you staying?” Ron asked, trying his hardest to concentrate on where he was putting his feet, because the path was uneven and he wasn't the steadiest on his feet when he was drunk.  
“I've a rented apartment just up over the hill,” Snape explained. “Just enough for me. What about you?”  
“I'm staying in a guest house in the village. It's nice... sort of rustic. Good breakfast.”  
  
It surprised him when Snape laughed and the sound bounced along the path in front of them. The wine, Ron remembered, had been Snape's own idea. The second bottle had been Ron's. Dessert and the two free shots of liqueur on the house had been largely a blur. Ron didn't hold wine well, he remembered faintly.  
  
A shiver rocked through him as the wind blew, pressing his t-shirt against his belly.  
  
“I s'pose we should be getting back.” He looked at the darkening sky and for a moment could do nothing but stare at the beautiful view.  
“Yes. Though I must confess... having company has been somewhat of a pleasure.”  
“For me too,” Ron confirmed, not sure whether he was saying it to make the man feel better, or because it was Godric's honest truth.  
“Would you like to come back for a drink?” Snape asked him, his eyes honest and, when Ron looked closely, almost scared.  
  
Too kind to affirm the hurt which was expected, Ron nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah. I'd like to see what sort of apartments they are. And have a drink, of course,” he added quickly, so as not to look ungrateful.  
  
***  
  
“Wow, great view,” Ron breathed, as he stepped out onto Snape's balcony and took in the scenery. “Must be nice to sit out here in the evening, drinking?”  
“I confess to not having done so as yet,” Snape answered, stepping out after him and handing Ron a glass of yet more wine. “It is not so nice without company, I suppose. Lonely.”  
  
Ron could understand that. The holiday by himself to take stock, to breathe and try and understand just why another of his relationships had failed, had been both helpful and depressing at the same him. He swung between placidity and despair, unable to stop the moods from coming as they wanted to. He realised, looking at the calm sea, that the evening had gone by quicker than any hours he had spent there thus far. He was only one day into his holiday and it had begun to drag.  
  
“I understand completely,” Ron assured him, and sipped at his wine. It was better than what had been served to them in the restaurant. “Good wine.”  
“Well, I know what I'm looking for in a large selection... the small shop over the hill had more than I was expecting. It is nice, you're right.”  
  
They shared another smile and Ron felt something tug in his belly.  
  
“Can I ask you something?” Snape asked quietly, resting his elbows on the metal surround of the balcony. “Why are you here alone, Ron?”  
  
The use of his first name startled him, and Ron searched desperately for a way to answer which didn't make him sound pathetic.  
  
“My last relationship ended badly,” he said. He drank some more wine for comfort. “That was two months ago and I haven't been right since. I needed some time away to think for myself, if you know what I mean?”  
“I do,” Snape confirmed.  
“But it's... it's not like I thought it would be.” Ron shrugged and knocked back a decent gulp of wine. “But then nothing in life ever is, is it?”  
“That sounds far too desolate for someone of your young years,” Snape commented dryly, and said no more.  
“Well, it probably is. But I don't know how else to describe it.”  
“And who was she, this villainess who broke your heart?” Snape asked.  
  
Ron felt himself colouring in the face. After three years, he was still embarrassed by what he was -or what he had become, through the course of his twenties.  
  
Gay. Homosexual. A shirt-lifter. A poof.   
  
He swallowed hard. “I should have known better. He was far too good for me. Quidditch player, actually. For the Wasps. I met him through work when we planned out the Quidditch World Cup in the summer.”  
“A man?” Snape allowed the shock to permeate his tone and Ron looked down at the street below them.   
  
Silence stretched between them and Ron wondered whether he was about to be thrown out, wine unfinished, for his honesty. He had never considered how tolerant Snape might be of homosexuality, not that he had ever had cause to.  
  
“Male or female, we all have the power to hurt others,” Snape said softly, and sipped at his drink. “I'm sorry for the fact it ended badly.”  
“So am I,” Ron said ruefully. “I don't think I paid for one drink the entire time we were going out.”  
  
Snape laughed again, that little sound which so disturbed Ron. “Perhaps that is why it did not fare well?”  
  
Ron burst out laughing. “Maybe. But I like to think I did other things which would have made up for it. I've been told I've a very caring lover. Fuck. And I'm drunk. Sorry. You didn't need to know that.”  
  
Snape said nothing, but there was a small smirk on his lips as he turned his head to look over the view. Ron followed suit and remained silent, instead choosing to watch the sun as it sank towards the sea on the horizon.  
  
“So are you here looking for love?” Snape asked finally. “A holiday romance to brighten your spirits, or just to relax?”  
“I don't know what I'm doing here,” Ron admitted. “I booked it after a really bad day and then... well. There was a holiday to go on and here I am.”  
“Here you are,” Snape repeated softly.  
  
***  
  
“So where have you been today?” Snape asked Ron, pouring him a glass of wine.  
  
Ron didn't know what was going on, but every night since the first night they had come across one another, they had both been in the same restaurant, at the same time, and had eaten together, and always ended up back at Snape's apartment. Over the course of the four nights, their conversation had become less stunted and more open. They had discussed everything from their politics to their choice in music, and despite himself, Ron had found himself really enjoying his old Professor's company.  
  
“Nowhere.” Ron grinned. “I went round the bay and laid all my stuff out, slathered on the suncream, and fell asleep. I read the paper. I watched the people around me. Had a bloody nice day. You?”  
“Spent the day wandering around the city. Fascinating place. The drivers are maniacs.”  
“Tell me about it.” Ron laughed and shook his head.  
“I ended up eating fruit from a stall in one of the main squares, just watching the people... like you.”  
  
Ron smiled at him and propped his chin on his hand, looking out at the water.  
  
“I hate this part of a holiday,” he said dully. “That point where you know it's nearly over and you don't want it to be.”  
“I had formed the impression that you weren't particularly enjoying yourself?” Snape questioned.  
“I wasn't, before I met you.”  
  
Ron blurted out the response before his brain had even properly processed the words. He blushed and guzzled at his drink.  
  
“I am enjoying you, too,” Snape said softly, before turning his face to the bar.  
  
Ron immediately began to wonder what that meant.   
  
“Your company has been both a pleasure and a relief,” Snape went on. “Because you remind me that, beyond my four walls, there is life. And a smile.”  
  
Ron's mouth went dry at the depth of Snape's words.  
  
“What d'you mean?” he asked, his voice a whisper.  
“What I mean is... I am not what I seem. I go on with my life, I try to make it successful. But in reality I don't want to try. Existing in itself is somewhat of a performance.”  
  
Saying nothing, Ron forced himself to look at the wizard.  
  
“You have been a saviour,” Snape said, and toasted his glass to Ron with sincerity.  
  
***  
  
“Well, this is me.” Ron gestured to the light coloured building which served as his lodgings. He felt unhappy -after their meal, they had not progressed in the usual way. They had walked a different route which had taken him past his hotel, and they were far away from Snape's apartment, where he had grown used to ending the evening.  
  
“I know it is,” Snape said. “I was wondering if I might come in with you? We have spent all our time at mine and I think you've been wasting your money.”  
  
Ron laughed. “You're probably right. Sure. Come in. I don't think they'll kick up about a guest but... don't make too much noise.”  
  
He gave the man a playful wink and led the way into the building, happy to find the small reception area devoid of life, and the lights in the dining room off. He began to climb the stairs and after a short while, they reached the door to his room.   
  
“Sorry about the mess.” Ron grinned and unlocked the door. The staff had been in during the day and neatly made the bed. “But I at least tidied up the underwear this morning.”  
  
Kicking off his trainers and socks, Ron relished the feel of cool stone beneath his hot soles, and pulled his zip up hoody from around his shoulders. It was not quite warm enough to stay out at night without an extra layer. He tossed it onto the bed and threw his hands out. “Welcome to my humble abode.”  
“The hotel is extraordinary,” Snape commented, looking with interest at the exposed wooden beams of the ceiling and ornate metal bed.  
“It's great,” Ron agreed. “Really helpful too. Drink? Not as nice as what you have, but nice enough.”  
  
When he had poured them both drinks into the plastic cups which were meant to be for mouth wash, Ron gestured for the man to sit down, and he did so awkwardly on the wooden bench at the far end of the room.  
  
“I wish I had stayed here,” Snape said finally. “Much nicer. So much more personality.”  
“You'll know for next time?” Ron suggested.  
  
Snape nodded.  
  
***  
  
It was midnight, and Ron's eyelids were drooping. For the second night running, they had ended up in his hotel room, drinking and putting the world to rights. Snape seemed happy to be there, becoming more natural with every passing moment and word. The time had come, however, for them to part, knowing that the following day each of them would be returning to England on separate portkeys.  
  
“Well, Mr Weasley, you have been the most adequate of acquaintances.” Snape said the words with a smirk, which in turn made Ron laugh. “Safe journey home?”  
“And you,” Ron said warmly, surprised by the real affection that he felt for the men reaching for the lock of his door. “I wondered... if... at home... maybe we could meet up, for dinner?”  
  
Snape turned, forgetting the lock. If Ron had been less drunk, he might have recognised the look of hunger in the man's eyes, but as such he missed it, and when Snape came at him, taking him in his arms, he gasped in surprise.  
  
Ron quickly forced himself to be calm. He had never been a blushing, gasping virgin type -he was more of a down and dirty slut type, and had far more fun for it. As thin lips pressed against his mouth, he opened it, snaking his tongue forth to rub against Snape's. Both of them moaned in surprise and then snorted with laughter in the other's face. Ron curled his arm around Snape's thin waist and held on tightly, tilting his head slightly to the right so that their noses didn't clash.  
  
Snape tasted of wine and the garlic of their dinner, but Ron found it urged him on. He licked with his tongue and felt with his hands, eager for more of whatever Snape would give him.  
  
“Severus...” he surprised them both with his use of the man's given name. “Severus... do you want to stay?”  
“Yes.”  
  
The word was tense and loaded, Severus pulled back, almost as if expecting rejection.  
  
Ron smiled at him, a smile he hoped came across as warm and full of promise.  
  
“Stay,” he whispered, and leant in for another kiss.  
  
***  
  
“Shit!” Ron gasped, flying upright in the bed. “I've missed my 'Key.”  
  
The suddeness of the situation thumped through his veins and Ron wildly thought about what to do.  
  
“Relax,” Severus instructed from behind him. Ron shivered as warm hands curled around his ribs and tugged him down onto his back. “Simply book onto the next with me. If money is an issue I can loan it to you.”  
  
It was a mark of his sleep-clogged brain that Ron didn't give the man a mouthful about how money wasn't an issue. He simply turned his face to the right on the pillow and smiled thankfully.  
  
“It's your fault, you know,” he murmured.  
“I don't care,” Severus declared, and leant in to kiss him.  
  
Flashes of the previous evening hit Ron then. Of falling on the bed, trapped beneath a surprisingly heavy body, kissing like a nymph, whilst clever fingers wormed up beneath his t-shirt and down into his shorts, fondling his cock and his nipples until he thought he was going to burst.   
  
“You're remembering...” Severus whispered against his cheek, which he then kissed.   
  
Ron moaned at the memory of the man forcefully parting his legs to expose him and the touches which followed, prising open his body and preparing him whilst another hand stroked his cock with frighteningly good skill.  
  
“Well... If this is anything to go by, the memories are pleasing...”  
  
Face flaming with colour, Ron arched into Severus' touch as the man took hold of his dick and squeezed.  
  
“And the noises you made... mewling like a whore...” Severus whispered, leaning over Ron to press him back into the mattress. “They are what I will remember...”  
  
Mouth full of tongue, Ron could say nothing else. All he wanted to do, he realised, as Severus began to pump his shaft, was come, over and over, until the powerful man above him had spent him well and truly, and there was no energy left in his body.  
  
 _Or spunk._  
  
The soft brush of hair on his cheek pulled Ron to his senses and he found Severus looking down at him.  
  
“More,” Ron pleaded quietly. “Don't stop. I don't care if we miss the second bloody Portkey, just don't stop.”  
  
Severus gave him a wan smile and nodded.  
  
 _-fin-_


End file.
